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Happy 240th birthday, Jane Austen! Jane Austen was born this day, 16 December 1775 in Hampshire, England. Birthdays were important events in Jane Austen’s life – those of others perhaps more so than her own.

The post Birthday letters from Jane Austen appeared first on OUPblog.

These images are a part of a greeting card I just finished up for a client. I had originally planned to do the art in a pen & ink style (second image), but did an entire version in a more rendered style (first image. Hey, I just noticed the piping around the cake bottom looks like a little like hot dog links! Not good). I opted for the pen & ink style in the end, though I like the first one as well. It was other parts of the image (not shown) that tipped it towards the latter style. Here's hoping the client is happy. : )

Have spent the last couple of days catching up on 'real life' stuff -- it tends to intrude every once in a while, unfortunately. Was exhausted yesterday afternoon and my mind was far too fuzzy to tackle any serious drawing (or the work that's piling up again!) but my fingers were feeling fidgety so they decided to doodle this while I blankly watched the small screen ... I didn't completely disapprove of it so thought I'd post it ... a sweet, simple doodle :)

Pink Rosebud products at Zazzle

3 Pink Rosebud products at Cafe Press

Tomorrow is my birthday. Click here to find out where you can send PRESENTS to! Ahem! Anyway.... I usually make a card for my twin brother. The cards are always my "Stacy and Tracy" characters which will star in their own MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR comic strip coming soon to a newspaper near you .... ahem! Again, anyway.... Happy Birthday, Tracy!

Birthday Party, originally uploaded by crystal driedger.

Every year it is my goal to use the skills I developed while working full time at my last job (I was there for four years and the company sold gift bags, childrens books, greeting cards and other fun things to quite a variety of companies including Walmart, Costco, American Greetings and many a dollar store among other places). One of the downsides of selling to these big companies was that the end results of my work (the actual products) weren't sold or created in Canada. Now normally this wouldn't be a problem, but I am a very far drive away from our nearest border (which for me is Montana, a beautiful state packed with mountains and sweet smelling forests)... and for those of you who have had the wonderful experience of seeing your work in stores it's so so satisfying to see it being touched and admired by real people, even if they are standing on it while it's on the floor (this, by the way, happened to me when I was lucky enough to be able to go on a business trip to Nashville. In a dollarstore in the middle of the city people were frantically searching for the "perfect" Christmas gift bag all the while tossing things on the floor where the faces of my paintings were being covered by the mud on the streets beneath customers boots).

This story reminds me of the reality of commercial illustration, or perhaps illustration in general. We create art that is essentially disposable. Our paintings get admired for seconds, perhaps a few days at most then is thrown away or recycled. There are exceptions to this rule: Children's books can be cherished and read over and over, some greeting cards are saved for years and I've heard of people framing copies of art they've clipped from magazines.

While I know that not every child who gets a card I've created in their mailbox will treasure it I can't stop trying to make similar images than those I loved when I was little. Greeting cards and childrens books were the first things I could call mine and they were certainly evidence that an artist could influence and brighten my world. Not to mention it dispelled the idea that if you wanted to be an artist you had to be "starving". Someone must have been paid to create the cards I got for my birthday and there was no way the artists behind the Lion King weren't being compensated in some way (although at the time I would have licked dirt to have been one of their artists, forget paying me!).

So I'll continue to illustrate and create concepts that might, if I am so lucky, be turned into cards that are eventually thrown away (or at best recycled). Because heck, people might like my design so much that they will buy my card and fill it with money. If that doesn't make my card worth more to someone, I don't know what will!

From Jago, Alex and Lily Peach

Over the past month or so, I read Nora Ephron's collection of short memoirs, I Feel Bad About My Neck. It's billed (by the publisher) as "a candid, hilarious look at women who are getting older and dealing with the tribulations of maintenance, menopause, empty nests, and life itself." Folks who know Nora's films, including three of my favorite romantic comedies, When Harry Met Sally, Sleepless in Seattle, and You've Got Mail, all three of which feature Meg Ryan (two of which include Tom Hanks -- and yes, I must really like the combo because I'm one of the five people who not only saw, but loved, Joe Versus the Volcano, for, among other things, giving me the term "brain cloud" and the line "I have no response to that.") But I digress.

Nora Ephron's book is a collection of 15 essays, some of which are incredibly short. And while the publisher's information is correct -- some of the essays are candid and hilarious, Kirkus is also correct when it calls the book "A disparate assortment of sharp and funny pieces revealing the private anguishes, quirks and passions of a woman on the brink of senior citizenhood." Because mixed in with the funny bits about how she feels bad about her neck and how she hates her purse and how she once fell in love with an apartment -- each of which touches on loss in their own way, incidentally -- are less funny pieces about disappointment and death. The one about her disappointment in Bill Clinton is particularly biting. And the unfunny one about death closes the book, which may explain (at least in part) why so many readers have given it mixed or even bad reviews. That and the sense that the book was uneven, and perhaps not put together in the best possible order.

Contributing to the book's unevenness is the fact that I think Kirkus was correct when it said that a couple of the pieces felt like they weren't quite ready for primetime and got thrown in as the book went to print -- "The Story of My Life in 3,500 Words or Less" and "What I Wish I'd Known". Both of them are sort of list-based entries, and while I like that gimmick, they don't have a real sense of arc or closure. And the humor payoff isn't big enough to make one able to overlook that particular detail. You want to write a list? Fine, go ahead. But don't just give me your grocery list or your list of things to do unless there's a story there -- a complete story, not just the notion of one. Or else, make it a really funny list, and then I'll forgive you. Otherwise, don't take up my time sharing.

All that said, I'd still recommend I Feel Bad About My Neck for womenfolk on the after side of forty. And don't read it all at once, under any circumstances. Read one or maybe two pieces at a time, and then walk away for a while. Because a really large dose of her stories diminishes their humor, and points out the same-ness of some of her shtick. This is a book best read in doctor's waiting rooms, or while waiting for kids to finish sports practice, or maybe in the bathroom (if you have the time -- that's more of a guy thing, really, but hey, who am I to judge?)

And here's why I'm recommending it, despite all the negative stuff in the earlier part of this review: because the really funny parts made me laugh out loud, in public even. And that isn't such an easy thing to come by. And because many of the pieces had me nodding along in recognition and appreciation for her spot-on depiction of the emotional journey we all make through life's stages and situations (including marriage, children, divorce, shopping, eating, success, and loss).